“Would you like to write a column on Men’s fashion, dear?"
Although I was involved in a few areas of the arts - painting, writing, and acting - a career pursuit in that line of work never occurred to me.
Around that time, I was offered a contract to model in Germany, so the Province wrote a career profile on me for the newspaper (before the daily went tabloid-style).
When one of the managers noticed that in addition to my involvement in fashion - that a few pieces of my literature (poems & short stories) had also been published - the idea was hatched to offer me a column reporting on menswear.
Being an adventurous individual - and not one to say no to new opportunities - I graciously accepted.
Alsop noted that each month one of my features on menswear would be published in the Province for a nominal writer’s fee.
I immediately jumped in to the swim of things by researching the subject thoroughly and familiarizing myself with the collections of men’s fashion designers and so-forth-and-so-on.
I was quite excited on the first occasion that I turned in one assignment - and after getting a nod from Alsop ("this is good stuff," she quipped as she lightly perused the material) - that it would be published in the near future.
Each morning, I anxiously ran to the newspaper stand and scoured the paper for my first article.
When I finally spied the fashion spread at the crack of dawn one morning, I was a little shocked at the polished (!) version that Alsop okayed for the presses.
One or two beautiful turns of phrases I slaved over were “edited out” and paragraphs were butchered in half.
Indeed, her version was a radical departure from the eloquent well-written one, I turned in.
Reality set in.
Now I knew why folks tended to label journalists "hacks".
At the Province, and to Kay Alsop in particular, it was the column inch that mattered.
I quickly learned that penning an article for a newspaper column required a different literary style.
In a nutshell, I realized it was important to get to the point in as few words as possible, but be ever-mindful to develop originality, style and a unique voice.
Once I got into the groove of things, there was an exciting new development that caused me to jump for joy.
The higher-ups at the Province were so pleased with my column (the response from readers was enthusiastic) that I was being blessed with a full page of coverage on menswear once a month.
A promotion of sorts!
So, I scrambled to rustle up material that would appeal to my growing audience.
Unfortunately, once my reports started to garner attention in fashion circles, problems with Kay Alsop set in.
For example, one day Kay called me up out-of-the-blue and berated me on the phone.
“You haven’t been mentioning any of our advertisers in your fashion columns,” she accused.
In spite of the fact I was a budding journalist, I was always under the impression - from an ethical standpoint - that the editorial department should not be influenced by (or get into bed with the advertisers).
Kay Alsop had difficulty grasping the concept.
One day, she dragged me over to a menswear shop that ran quarter-page ads in the province, and practically stood over me as I interviewed the owner of the shop and took stock of the inventory so I could pen a rave review on it.
Then, there was an ugly moment, when I saw the clear light of day.
In an aside, which I overheard, the gentleman in question asked if Kay’s husband was happy with the men’s clothes the store owner shipped over.
Kay Alsop was on the take!
One evening, when we attended a ritzy upscale charity fashion event in West Vancouver, Kay turned to me and uttered up an odd remark that was quite unsettling.
“Someone told me you have been telling people that you're the Fashion Editor.”
I was in shock.
That allegation was totally false.
In fact, the notion was so stupid, that I nearly laughed out loud a few minutes later (for obvious reasons) after reflecting on the comment.
Why would I make such an outrageous remark in view of the fact a person had only to open up the daily paper and determine from the credits cited in the Province that Kay Alsop was listed as the Fashion Editor?
In fact, I was just a columnist penning a menswear feature titled "Dressing Right".
After giving the matter more thought, I realized that oftentimes people would ask me what I did for a living.
I do recall referring to myself as a fashion writer for menswear.
To give this “person” (who remained anonymous for some inexplicable reason) the benefit of the doubt, I suggested to Kay that perhaps they misheard me (or misunderstood what I said).
But more troubling situations brewed on the horizon which upset me.
After slaving over the drafting, editing and polishing of my stories for hours on end, once turned in, Kay would just open her drawer and plop them down inside without taking a gander.
Then, the unthinkable happened.
Story ideas I developed in my columns started showing up in her columns as my features remained unpublished in her drawer.
She was using me for her creative well (stealing my ideas!).
As I started to make contacts in the rag business, the Men’s Fashion Association of America invited me to attend a four-day event being held at the Biltmore Hotel in downtown Los Angeles.
Fashion Editors from around the country were being put up at the Biltmore Hotel so that they could cover a non-stop round of menswear events featuring top designers in the country.
All I needed was the airfare (the room would be paid by the association) which amounted to about $200.00 return-trip at the time.
When I approached Kay about the newspaper possibly funding that portion of the cost of the trip, she was quite adamant that the newspaper could not afford it.
However, if I attended the fashion event on my own, the newspaper would be interested in publishing my stories at the regular fee.
Okie-Doke.
So, I paid my own airfare.
But it was quite disheartening - a shocker really - when the newspaper reported later that Alsop was traveling overseas to Paris & Milan to cover all the big fashion shows that year.
Her trip - which must have cost thousands of dollars - was being paid by the Province.
At this point, I realized what a greedy selfish woman Kay Alsop was.
And, a thief to boot.
In addition, she was fiercely protective of what she perceived as her territory.
For instance, when I was preparing for a fashion shoot on location, I thought it might be visually-appealing to include a pretty female model in the fashion spread instead of just featuring two male models.
After I hired a female model, and spent considerable effort rustling up a cocktail dress and accessories for the shoot, Kay shunned the publicity shot featuring the woman’s fashion apparel.
Why?
Clearly, Alsop not only felt I had ventured on her turf without permission, but also threatened her exclusive role as woman’s fashion editor at the daily
Uh-huh!
When I was in Los Angeles, I met Lou Rawls at one of the events, and he noted he would be performing in Vancouver in the near future.
He noted he’d be receptive to an interview for the Province.
So, when he flew in to B.C. and settled in at his Hotel in North Vancouver (where he was performing in a lounge) I told Kay Alsop about Mr. Rawl’s offer.
“Oh, can you get my husband and me tickets,” she quizzed.
“We love Lou Rawls."
So, I arranged for the tickets, and we attended.
The next day my interview was scheduled with Mr. Rawls.
Because interviewers tended to focus entirely on Lou’s music, I elected to pen a piece on Rawls as a “Man of Style”
It also was appropriate in view of the fact I was menswear writer for the newspaper.
At the interview, a reporter showed up from the newspaper, to snap a few publicity stills.
Because I was penning a piece on a man of style, I needed appropriate photos to accompany my story.
When it was obvious that the photographer missed the point of the story - and was clueless about the kind of photographs I needed to supplement my feature - I quietly approached him with some pointers.
Apparently, the photographer (a gruff man with poor manners) got ticked off by my overture - and behind my back - proceeded to complain to his department that I interfered with his creative process.
What a piece of sh**, eh?
At this juncture, Kay made a comment that my story mentioned a few details about Mr. Rawl’s musical background, in addition to the style report.
I was quite taken aback when Kay lamented that I was somehow encroaching on Renee's territory (a self-annointed (!) music critic at the newspaper).
I was flabbergasted for a couple of reasons.
It is not unusual for a writer or two in separate sections of the newspaper to pen features that cross-over on a subject.
Moreover, if what Kay said were true, then why did she accept the tickets to the Lou Rawl’s show?
If she believed that what she said was true - then, as a matter of principle - she should have nixed the plans to attend the Rawl's concert.
Although I had little contact with Renee, it was pretty obvious what a low-life (unintelligent) back-stabber she was, when a comment she made was revealed to me by one day by Kay.
“Renee says people call the newspaper trying to reach you all the time,” Kay barked at me in an accusing tone one day out-of-the-blue.
Say what?
For starters, I was treated as a free-lance writer at the Province - so - I worked at home.
I didn’t even have an office space or cubbyhole at the Province.
At no time did I ever give out a number at the Province nor did I ever invite anyone to call me there.
If Kay Alsop or Renee had one ounce of intelligence - or one iota of common sense - it should have been obvious to both of these green-eyed monsteers that I had no control over a stranger and/or their actions.
It should have been obvious to any fool, that if you have a column in the newspaper which thousands of readers peruse daily, that now and then one of them may be inclined to try to contact the journalist - where else?
At the newspaper, of course!
By the way, in spite of the fact Renee alleged folks called to try to reach me, I don’t recall anyone at the newspaper ever passing on the messages - or even informing me about the calls - until Renee got her ti* caught in a wringer over the Lou Rawls “poaching” attempt.
At that point, I pretty much fathomed the obvious.
Renee & Alsop were just tired old warhorses - puffed up with greed - and envious of me.
When Kay Alsop actually suggested in one column one day that patrons pluck up pats of butter from the table of a restaurant and take them home to use on light snacks to save money, I pretty much knew for a sure at this point that Kay was off her rocker, too.
I complained to the Office Manager.
"Is this the news that is fit to print?"
He suggested I start reporting on hard news - but at the time - it was an area I was not much interested in reporting on so I passed.
And, on the heels of that meeting, I quit the newspaper.
Because Kay and I had a couple of mutual acquaintances in the social scene in Vancouver - Valerie Gibson and her daughter Michelle, for instance (both related to Canadian politician Gordon Gibson) they were quick to pester me for all the nasty details.
"What happened with you and Kay?"
A sportswriter I knew at the Sun also tried to pry the gossip out of me, too.
But, in all sincerity, I tried to be a man about it and exit the newspaper job gracefully.
Unfortunately, it came to my attention later - that because of my silence - folks thought the job did not pan out because I couldn’t cut it or due to the fact I was fired.
In the final analysis, my name and reputation at the paper was left dangling, to my great regret.
So, I promised myself that one day I would get it all off my chest at the appropriate time, and set the record straight.
Here it is, one unresolved score, settled at long last.
Yeah, Kay Alsop was quite a piece of work!
